


champagne problems

by gossamerghost



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Break Up, M/M, Miscommunication, Sad Ending, Sad and Happy, Short One Shot, Two boys in love but too afraid to say what needs to be said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossamerghost/pseuds/gossamerghost
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi knows his boyfriend is keeping a secret. Miya Atsumu is keeping a secret. It might be their undoing.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Kudos: 34





	champagne problems

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I woke up on the first of the year craving pain. This baby is a result of me being emo and in my feelings while listening to Taylor Swift's sequel album to folklore. As such, title is of course from "champagne problems" from evermore. I think there's something so poetically sad about people who envision their lives together but one little thing entirely upsets the whole balance of their future. Please enjoy this short lil angsty fic.

In the pulsing dark of the club there is a flash of brilliant blonde, cast green and blue in the lights flickering bubble patterns across the walls. Kiyoomi can barely make anything out in the throng of bodies, Hinata having brought him one too many shots and now he felt desperately lost and exquisitely out of control, swaying in the mass of strangers.

Softly, hands snaked their way onto his hips and Kiyoomi was surprised to find Atsumu there, pressed against his back, eyes lidded, lost in the music.  _ Ah, it’s Tsumu.  _ Somewhere in the back of his brain a little sober Sakusa thought,  _ oh? We’re calling him Tsumu? Even though we’re mad at him? Interesting.  _ But a bigger, drunker version of himself was already too busy threading his fingers over and between Atsumu’s which had settled on his waist.

The music was loud, throbbing, and Atsumu was shorter than him by just enough that his chin perfectly slotted in the space where Kiyoomi’s muscular shoulder melted into his neck. Once there, Atsumu seemed to briefly come to, smirking at Kiyoomi before taking on a more serious look. He mouthed something that Kiyoomi couldn’t hear a word of above the din of the club.

“What?” he asked, tipping his head back. Atsumu frowned, pressing up on his tiptoes, pressing their bodies closer together in the process.

“I asked if yer okay,” Atsumu yelled, but it might as well have been a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kiyoomi asked, head dipping back and away in an awkward attempt to hide the blush burning its way across his features.

“It’s crowded! And Bokuto definitely lied about how packed this place gets.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi agreed. “I’m okay though, because you’re here.”

“Huh?” Atsumu asked, one of his hands slinking from Kiyoomi’s grasp to run across the flat plane of his stomach, teasing at the edge of his shirt to reach for the overheated, warm skin hiding beneath. “Whaddid ya say?”

Kiyoomi bit the inside of his mouth as Atsumu’s hands roamed to keep himself from moaning. “I said it’s too bad you’re so short.”

“Ah,” Atsumu hummed, his lips so close to the skin of Kiyoomi’s neck, breath tickling against him, a gentle tease of what could be. “Here I thought ya might be being nice to me for a second.”

“No way,” Kiyoomi purred, swinging his hips in time with the music, pulling Atsumu along for the ride with him. 

The thing is that this moment is one that dances precariously on the edge of a knife. A moment that could be ruined at any second by Atsumu telling Kiyoomi the secret he’s been keeping or by the latter whispering that he knew. He knew. He  _ knew  _ that his boyfriend was going to leave him in a month's time for the gods only knew how long. That was certainly his prerogative, Kiyoomi didn’t own him and of course, wanted him to do whatever made him happiest. 

The other thing was that Kiyoomi was selfish and wanted desperately to believe that Atsumu hadn’t told him because Hinata had been lying about beach volleyball and Brazil and Atsumu  _ leaving  _ with him. 

It was one thing for the Jackals to lose Hinata and another thing entirely for Sakusa Kiyoomi to lose Miya Atsumu. Didn’t he at least get a say? Didn’t the ring that had sat heavy in his leather wallet for the last six months have a space on Atsumu’s ring finger to call home?

Didn’t Atsumu know that once Kiyoomi started something, he saw it all the way through to the end? Didn’t Kiyoomi deserve forever? 

Didn’t Kiyoomi deserve Atsumu?

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Atsumu hummed into the shell of his ear. “Ya look like someone’s just spiked a ball right into the back of yer head.”

“If you’d tell me if you had a secret,” Kiyoomi said, craning his neck back to catch a glance of Atsumu’s face, surprisingly guarded and tired. 

The look of wariness faded quickly to something more akin to a fond sadness as he said “Omi, I tell ya everything that’s important.”

Kiyoomi squeezed their fingers together and Atsumu echoed the pressure back, drawing their hands around to Kiyoomi’s sides so that they were pressed against one another in an embrace far too raw and tender for a club environment. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Atsumu laughed against his skin, pressing a kiss to the side of Kiyoomi’s neck. “Because I love you, so much.”

“Mm,” Kiyoomi hums back, the sound vibrating against Atsumu’s lips, returned to the warmth of Kiyoomi’s skin. “I like it when you say that.”

_ It almost makes me believe you. _ Kiyoomi thought to himself.

Winter wind whipped through the city of Osaka as the last dwindling members of the MSBY Black Jackals made a less than graceful exit from a dance club in the early stretches of the morning, reeking of sweat and booze. Hinata and Inunaki carried a nearly unconscious Bokuto between them, still half-drunk themselves, but determined to get him home. They shuffled to the edge of the curb just outside the club where a taxi that Barnes had hailed for them was waiting.

Kiyoomi found the winter air to be surprisingly sobering, already having come down from whatever euphoric high being buzzed had given him, now reverting slowly back to his usual self and desperate to get home. Desperate also, to have Atsumu tell him the truth. So that they could make plans for the future. So that they could move forward.

If that was possible, anyway.

"Well, this is us." Hinata sighed, pushing his increasingly lengthy swathe of bangs off his forehead. Inunaki had already slid into the back, dragging Bokuto along with him. "See you tomorrow, Tsumu, Sakusa."

Atsumu lifted his hand tiredly by way of goodbye. Kiyoomi stood quietly beside him, mask up and hands buried deep in his pockets. If he made any move to say bye too, Atsumu didn't catch it.

Internally, Atsumu was already cursing himself for not agreeing to assist Shoyo in carrying Bokkun out. After all, he'd probably offered it to Atsumu first as an out, having caught him in the act of his ultimate transgression… touching Kiyoomi.

And it wasn't like it was entirely his fault, the touching that is. Kiyoomi had been all over him in the alley after dinner, just before they’d entered the club. Atsumu couldn’t help it that whenever Kiyoomi initiated, he responded in full, since sometimes his desire to be touched was as fleeting as a ripple from a dropped pebble in the still of a pond. 

Kiyoomi was addictive and warm and gave Atsumu everything he needed. He gave him a home and together they’d built a sort of tender sanctuary for one another within each other’s hearts. Loving Kiyoomi was  _ easy _ , even if everyone outside their relationship told Atsumu that it seemed incredibly hard. They didn’t see the Omi he saw, didn’t know who he was when he was alone, when he was with Atsumu. That was their little secret; the soft, doting sides to their personalities that they had both seemed to reserve for the other. Swapped kisses and noses pressed against the back of necks while spooning. Coffee and pastries left out on the counter when one of them left earlier than the other.

In Atsumu’s quietest, closest held fantasy, Sakusa Kiyoomi is his forever. His partner, his hitter, his boyfriend, his  _ husband _ . They have a small quaint house near Kita’s rice farm after they retire and they coach the upcoming generation of Inarizaki players. They don’t need the memories because every day moving forward is theirs to claim together. Atsumu longs for this so deeply that he often has to go on a jog just to shake the thoughts from his head. They’re good thoughts, sure, but they’re thoughts that he doesn’t talk enough about with Kiyoomi yet. Doesn’t trust himself too. Even though he loves him, wants him more than anything else.

So, if Atsumu knew he loved Kiyoomi, why couldn’t he tell him he was leaving? How come he couldn’t just break down and plead for Kiyoomi not to leave him, that even though he was going overseas for an indeterminate amount of time -- to get better,  _ for them _ , so that they could reach the national stage together -- he would be back for Kiyoomi. There wasn’t a single person on the planet who Atsumu had ever wanted more than Kiyoomi and having him had been the happiest and luckiest he’d ever been.

So, why couldn’t he say anything? Even  _ knowing  _ that Kiyoomi had probably sensed that something was off. If he hadn’t already pieced things together.

"Let's go home," Sakusa said, softly, nudging Atsumu with his elbow. He jolted from his thoughts, straightening his shoulders back.

"Yeah," Atsumu agreed. "Want me to call a cab?"

"I'd rather walk if that's okay with you."

Atsumu whined. "But your apartment is so far."

Saksua huffed out something that might've been a laugh if Atsumu didn't know better. If he ignored the building tension between them over every unspoken word stuck on the tips of their tongues. 

"Miya," Kiyoomi said, in a low and serious way that made Atsumu’s heart leap into his throat.

Atsumu gave him a miserable glance. "Omi, no one else is around, can't ya drop the act?"

The tight lines of frustration at the pinch of Sakusa's brows and the corners of his eyes relaxed and he pulled his mask down. "Atsumu."

"Yeah, that's better,” Atsumu breathed and tugged at Sakusa’s sleeve until he retracted one hand from his pocket and intertwined their long fingers together. 

Kiyoomi gave him a thin smile. “Kiss?”

Atsumu beamed and tipped his head up, pressing his warm lips against Kiyoomi’s smile. They lingered there, as though a timid kiss could reveal all their anxieties to the other.  Kiyoomi pulled quietly away and they began to walk together towards Kiyoomi’s apartment.

Sakusa sighed. "I know you're going to Brazil."

Atsumu stiffened. This was not a topic he was ready to address tonight, even if he had been playing over every reason the conversation  _ should  _ be happening for every waking minute since Hinata had propositioned him. "What of it?"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"You'd have found out eventually…" Atsumu offered, unhelpfully.

"So, I can sleep in your bed and you can fuck me when you'd like and I can kiss you when I'm upset and you can cry and say you love me but this, telling me you're leaving, is too much?"

Atsumu flinched, he deserved that. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Sakusa didn’t back down. He never had before, why start now. "All you needed to say was ' _ there's an opportunity for me to play sponsored beach with Shoyo and I want to take it. _ ' That easy."

They continued on in unsettled silence for a while, each stuck in their own minds, the only thing keeping them on the same page, keeping them connected was their joined hands. After several minutes, Atsumu cleared his throat and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. "Omi…"

Kiyoomi squeezed back. “Please, why couldn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I was afraid, Omi. Afraid that you wouldn’t support my decision. That you wouldn’t understand… That you wouldn’t want to wait.”

“Well,” Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “I don’t want to wait.”

“Omi, that’s not fair.”

“Tsumu,  _ what’s  _ not fair? I’m not sure exactly how long you’ve known about your plan to go abroad but we could’ve talked about this. I could’ve considered playing beach too. I could’ve suspended playing for a season to be with you overseas. We could’ve… We could’ve figured this out if you had given me the time to talk it through with you.”

“Omi Omi, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I had had the courage to tell ya sooner. But I was so scared. And I’m still scared but I don’t know what to do.”

"Atsumu. What was this to you?" Kiyoomi asked. “Where did you see us going?”

“I dunno,” Atsumu lied, feeling sick to his stomach.

Sakusa sighed, gently wiggling his fingers as though to pull them from Atsumu’s grip. Atsumu didn’t loosen his hold and Sakusa leveled an unhappy grimace at him. "I figured."

"What was it to you? What did you envision?" Atsumu asked, a pleading edge bleeding into his voice. Maybe Kiyoomi could be honest for the both of them. Maybe Kiyoomi could salvage this in Atsumu’s fumbling stead.

“I'll tell you what,” Sakusa took a step away from him, finally tugging his hand free. Atsumu and Sakusa stood staring at one another, expressions pained. “I'll tell you when you come back.” 

"That's a long time for me to be in the dark,” Atsumu hissed out, not quite angry but unable to prevent a venomous lilt from seeping into his words. This wasn’t at all the way he had wanted things to go. Both of them were sinking the ship now and neither of them was quite brave enough to throw the other a life vest.

"Well, then you can get accustomed to it just as I have," Kiyoomi said and if the edge of the tone in his voice cracked, Atsumu wouldn't have the courage to point it out.

"Omi," Atsumu whispered, vision blurring as tears pooled in his eyes and began to slowly drag their way down his cheeks. “Are we breaking up over this?”

"Maybe you should get used to calling me, Sakusa, again," he said, sharply.

“Omi…” Atsumu choked out. “Ah, uhm, Sakusa. Um, Kiyoomi. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? Can we, can we please talk about this?”

Sakusa gave him an exhausted look, eyes heavy and shoulders caved in as though someone was pressing down on him. “Miya, we’ll talk when you come back, okay? I’m not going to say or do anything that will affect your ability to chase your dreams. I want you to go. I want you to play. And I will spend every moment waiting for you to come back and be my setter again. But right now, you are not mine anymore. I release you.”

“I don’t want to be released,” Atsumu choked out. 

“Goodbye, Miya. Good luck.” And with that Kiyoomi turned and walked off, hands heavy in his pockets.

_ And that was Kiyoomi’s final goodbye to one, Miya Atsumu. He was not there as the members of MSBY bid Hinata and Atsumu farewell at the airport. He was not there for their goodbye party. He did not speak to Atsumu again except to grab one of his extra jerseys from his apartment. They didn’t speak. It was unkindly painful. And Miya Atsumu had to accept that he had lost his greatest love for now. And there was no way he’d be getting him back until he’d had his fun abroad.  _

_ Though, how could there be any fun, any joy, without Sakusa Kiyoomi by his side? _

_ Atsumu didn’t know. _

_ He had never wanted to know. _

**Author's Note:**

> I love suffering at my own hands. If you need me, I'll be listening to the evermore bonus track "right where you left me" until I've written the angst out of my bloodstream.


End file.
